King Faelan

The iron chains cut into my wrists, their crude weight an insult to my kind. My wings, once my pride, now hung limp, bound by thick leather straps that reeked of human hands. The dungeon was damp, the air thick with the stench of mold and despair. Flickering torches cast feeble light on the stone walls, their glow unable to chase away the darkness that seeped into my bones. I was a daughter of the wind, a creature of the emerald glades, yet here I knelt on the cold ground of the human king’s prison, reduced to nothing more than a captured beast. I clenched my jaw, swallowing the bitterness that rose in my throat.